


Sugar Dipped in Poison

by Firekitty59



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: 1920s, 1920s slang, Bar Fight, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, F/F, Gentle Kissing, Homophobia, Human AU, I cried writing this, I got flustered just writing Spinel, Love at First Sight, Mafia AU, Mafia Spinel, Mentions of Attempted Suicide, Mentions of alcohol, Mentions of self-harm, Parental Abuse, Prohibition, Reader is a useless lesbian, Self-Insert, Sexism, Spinel is a big softie, Steven Universe Future, Swearing, There may be many historical errors, early 1900s, reader is female
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22870252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firekitty59/pseuds/Firekitty59
Summary: “Spinel?!” You think, shocked. “Spinel, here?” You watch as the people closest to Garnet shrink away, but your brain isn’t processing what is happening before you. You’ve heard the rumors about Pink’s new replacement. There were too many to possibly ever feel safe in a city that she resided in.(Anyone into mafia Spinel? That's what you're gonna find here~)
Relationships: Reader x Spinel, Ruby/Sapphire (Steven Universe), Spinel (Steven Universe) & Reader, Spinel (Steven Universe)/Reader, Spinel x reader
Comments: 13
Kudos: 80





	Sugar Dipped in Poison

“Help wanted,” reads the sign before you. You take a deep breath and clench your fists. 

“It’s 1924 in Beach City of all places,” you think. “Surely they’d consider hiring a girl, wouldn’t they?”

“Unlikely,” you tell yourself. “Don’t you get your hopes up. You shouldn't be out here anyway. In front of a _bar,_ no less. What would your parents think?”

“You don’t know unless you try.” You decide that you love arguing with yourself. “Besides, you should be proud of yourself for coming all the way out here...by _yourself_! You’ve never been alone before.”

From beyond the wooden door, you can hear the distinct _clink-clink_ of glass and the loud chatter of people you’d rather not get to know. It was true--as odd as it seems, you aren’t allowed out of the house alone. For eighteen years, you have only been outside with your parents a handful of times--not counting your old backyard playtimes, of course. It hasn’t really bothered you for a long while. It’s your life, after all. 

Your home was a temptress for the longest time; you find it to be such a nice place--so cozy, so clean and so pretty--so why would you ever think to leave it? Still, at a young age you were ever so curious:

_“Why can’t I go outside?” you had asked your mother._

_"Ohhhhh, sweetie, it's too dangerous outside. There are such awful people out there." Your mother had told you in a hushed, worried tone. She shook her head disdainfully. "Really horrible people.” She had even shivered just thinking about it. “How do they even sleep at night?"_

_“Who are they, Mama?” you had asked, leaning forward with wide, iridescent eyes. When she had hesitated for only a split second, you had burst out: “Please! I wanna know! I’ll eat allllll my veggies if you tell meeeeeeeeee!”_

_“Hey! Now what did I say about bribery?” she had scolded, though her tone remained lighthearted. “I’ll tell you what I’ve heard about the Diamond crime family," she decided. "They’re the most feared mafia group of Beach City. There’s White Diamond, Yellow Diamond, Blue Diamond, and--”_

_“Oh, I know this one! I know, I know!” you interjected excitedly, bouncing up and down a little on the sofa. “Pink Diamond! I remember you telling me you were so happy when she died!” Quietly, you added, “...It was a little mean.”_

_“She was horrible!” your mom stressed. “Not as violent as the others, but…, she sighs, “I don’t know why...I hated her the most. Especially since one of the police officers came out to the press the other day and said that the late chief of police Rose Universe was actually Pink Diamond all along!”_

_Eight-year-old you could not have been more surprised: “Whaaaaaaat?! No way!! That’s not true! They look totally different!”_

_“A lot of people don’t believe it,” your mother had admitted, though it was clear from her expression what she thought of those people._

_“I bet daddy doesn’t believe it,” you had chimed in cheekily._

_“Regardless, their adopted son isn’t allowed to come here anymore,” she had quickly added, and you had jolted upright. “We can’t trust those people anymore.”_

_“Mom!” Your eyes were as large as dinner plates. “Not Steven Universe! Please!”_

_“Y/n. What did I say about friends? And don’t call me ‘mom’! It’s ‘mama’ or ‘mommy.’”_

_You threw a hand over your chest as if you had been shot through the heart. “But...it’s Steven! Steven is so cool! He’s the bestest friend I’ve ever had!” you pleaded, hoping that she would understand. "He's the only one my age I ever get to see anymore!"_

_Her voice had suddenly become dry with warning. “Y/n. Don’t talk back to me.”_

You’re looking at the entrance of the bar door apprehensively. You should just step right in, but anxiety holds you in place. Now you can hear shrill laughter coming from within the building, and you instantly know that they’re having too much fun in there. You can guess exactly why, and you wrinkle your nose. Another ill-kept secret: “Speakeasies,” you mutter under your breath. “Don’t those bootleggers have anything better to do?”

_“Friends don’t matter. They come and go. Family is much more important.”_

You take a step back. Maybe you shouldn’t have come out at all.

_“Family is the most important thing in the world, okay? Oh, sweetie, you’re going to take good care of us when we’re older, won’t you? I don’t want to end up in an old folks’ home!”_

_“You won’t! And you and daddy are gonna live forever and ever! That’s all I wish for all the time!”_

You know something is clearly wrong. If anything, you consider this morning to be monumental. You woke up to an empty house with no sign of your family--save for a hastily made and barely legible note taped to the door that read: “Your brother is in hospital. We will be back tomorrow morning. Drink your water, don’t open the door!!”--and nothing else.

You can’t recall ever being left home alone before.

_“You’ll take care of your brother, too? Won’t you? He’s very sickly, you know? You love him, right?”_

_“I love him, and you, and daddy!”_

_“Ohhhh, what a sweet girl!”_

The bar door looks more and more unwelcoming by the second. But this is your first and potentially only chance for you to attempt to help out, and you just have to do something. You just have to be useful for once.

_You had turned away from your mother and stared outside to study the violet-toned mountains at the edge of the horizon. Your pinning eyes had mirrored your fascination. "I still kinda wish I could go out though. I know it’s dangerous, but it's so pretty outside!"_

_"It is, isn't it?" she had scooched closer to you on the sofa and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. She gave you an endearing smile as your wonder completed you. You met her gaze and grinned back-- a gesture that had made her laugh out loud and draw you in for a hug. She had snuggled you carefully and had her face pressed into your hair, rocking you from side to side in a comforting swaying motion all the while._

_You had smiled up at her. You had also watched the sincerity of her smile fade as she too looked beyond the glass windowpane._

_“...Mama?”_

_"...I worry for your father every single day he goes out there. I never go out unless I have to. But he’s the man, so it would make sense that he can do it. That’s the difference between men and women. The world is so… awful. I wish I could protect you from it. And I know it’s silly, but I just can’t wait for the day you get married.”_

_“Mama!” you had groaned. You had stifled the urge to roll your eyes. “I’m eight!”_

_She had responded with a laugh--as if you were being funny. “I know! But it’s going to help us so much. I just hope we can find you a nice guy with money who can protect you and love you just as much as we do. It’ll be hard work finding a gentleman like that around here, but you know we’d do anything for you, Y/n. You’ll also be helping us so much this way! Don’t you want to help?”_

That was already ten years ago.

“Help wanted,” reads the sign before you. Dear God, you just want to help. All your life you wait for this moment, and once the chance lays itself out submissively before you-- “oh, come on, Y/n!!” you mutter to yourself. “Aren’t you ready?!” You’ve already scoured the town with no luck but this secret speakeasy. You need to get a job to help support your family--even if it means serving a couple of drunktards for a while. 

Even if it means disobeying your parents’ rules.

You think you hear someone behind you, so you jolt into motion and quickly slip inside the bar.

In the semi-darkness you squint your eyes and study the horde of people scrambling frantically toward the counter. In the midst of the pushing and shoving--as well as the aggravating laughter that scraped at the insides of your ears like sandpaper--you noticed how the dim light reflecting off the bottles of alcohol sitting before the people made them squeal like children in a candy store.

You heart pounds with an irritated interest. “Breaking the law--to do such a thing just to be happy!” Their overbearing excitement hurts you the most simply because you couldn’t share their joy. Not because you didn’t want to-- “I wonder what it tastes like. Mom surely can’t be right about everything”-- but because you are not supposed to. You wouldn’t be able to stand the shame.

You’re standing uselessly by the door, hands gripping the sides of your dress as your head spins. Several girls with short hair and high-cut dresses dance as if putting their legs on display. You can’t help but watch. The intoxicating smell swirls around the room; you know that humans are far too small to sense the turning motion of the Earth, but you can definitely feel the world revolving right now.

You watch curiously as several people closest to you suddenly freeze and turn their heads toward the door. Presently, you understand the crowds’ slowly approaching silence as a resounding thud from just outside reaches your ears.

The door slams open with such a ferocity you gasp and scramble backward. At the entrance of this bar stands an officer you used to know personally. Her black, poofy hair frames her pretty yet elegant features--her honest and all-seeing eyes shrouded by dark, stylish glasses. 

“CRYSTAL POLICE!” she bellows--and though her voice is akin to musical sounds--a wild tension permeates the room. It’s so distinct from the eerie, sudden silence. Any other average American would doubt a police force handled by women. Meet the Crystal Police face-to-face, however, and all doubt vanishes completely. Some Beach City residents, your father has told you, are convinced that these ladies are _aliens._

You notice the wall of friends behind the officer. Of course you remember her--her name is Garnet, there’s Amethyst and Pearl...oh, and even Steven?! Excitement surges through your chest as you see him. He looks almost the same as you remember--the only differences are his height, his nice pink coat, and a stern level stare that takes you by surprise. There are also three other women you don’t think you’re ever seen before, but you don’t have the time to look further, because--

Garnet marches forward towards what had previously been the generator of a charged, eccentric hubbub, and you back away into a lone circular table pushed unceremoniously into a corner. “Spinel,” you hear the sturdy woman bark to the crowd. “Have you seen her?” 

“Spinel?!” You think, shocked. “Spinel, _here_?” You watch as the people closest to Garnet shrink away, but your brain isn’t processing what is happening before you. You’ve heard the rumors about Pink’s new replacement. There were too many to possibly ever feel safe in a city that she resided in.

Garnet turns to the bartender in a flash and yanks upon the poor man’s shirt collar. “Where is she?” she insists as the rest of the Crystal Police flood in to investigate the room. “Spit it out!” she demands in a growl. An officer clothed in green tones--one of the few you don’t recognize--has already got some sort of round device scanning the area with a futuristic, faint green light. You should be nervous--and you definitely are--but you can’t help but think: “Oh, that’s so cool!”

A flying chair soaring over your head jerks you the fuck back into the present. The wooden legs of the chair crash down with such force against Garnet’s head that she actually looks dazed for a long moment.

Everyone in the room seems to be staring at you. You’re overcome with panic as you hear a rattling noise coming from behind you. You turn sharply to see a woman standing on top of the table just several feet away. Everyone collectively gasps as she says sweetly, “Did somebody jus’ call me?” 

Some reasonable part of you hates the fact that you just can’t look away. It’s Spinel, all right. But it wasn’t the fearful rumors, her name, or the photos--those things didn’t seem to capture her at all. Such things did not do her justice. It was true that you had already thought that she was pretty--but in an objective

“that-flower-sure-is-pretty-but-oh-my-god-no-not-in- _that_ -way-you-weirdo” way. But now that she’s right behind you-- and you’re looking at her magenta twin-tails to her messily buttoned-up white shirt that renders most of her collarbone exposed, to her pink gloves, and down to her black slacks--your legs feel weak.

You wonder if it’s because you haven’t had enough experience with pretty faces before that’s got your mind all tangled up. She must be more than six feet tall. The dim lights above cast a flattering shadow across her face, making her lower lashes look even fuller, dark stylized mascara lines running down her face yet darker, and the action of her biting her bottom lip ever the more prominent. The darkness complements her magenta swirling eyes, shining in a way that seemed almost animalistic in nature. Behind those eyes, however, you find yourself sensing that there is more to what they seem. The frantic swirl in them shocks you with a wild desperation to be adored--yet to distrust everyone simultaneously. It’s overwhelming. You want more of it.

“Eyes are the windows to the soul”--so you’ve been told, and you decide that she’s gorgeous.

She suddenly narrows her eyes at the crowd of onlookers before her. With a dramatic lunge of her hand, she points into the clusterfuck, and the people beside her supposed victim scoot hastily away from a poor quivering man. “Hey, piano man! Who said you could stop!?” she cries angrily, enunciating each word with a high-pitched, cutting snap of a voice. “Get back in your seat!”

The piano man seems to have pissed himself. He looks uncertainty at Spinel--then at the bristling police officers with eyes and hands ready for a fight--and then back at Spinel again. As he hesitates, the people around him gulp and cover their eyes like every moment he spends dawdling is one year slivered off his lifespan. Soon enough, however, he hobbles back over to a dusty-looking piano in the opposite corner of the room. He half-falls onto the bench with a comedic plop and braces his uncharacteristically elegant, long fingers to play.

You swallow as Garnet shakes away her dizziness and bandishes her rock-tough fists. You tremble slightly as Pearl tightens her grip on her police club. You’re afraid for them. Yet still--you hate just how much you want this villain’s eyes on you.

Spinel leaps off the table and kicks it into the wall in midair. The wood splinters from the impact, and you squeak and rush away from the scattering pieces. Spinel struts over to a particularly long, broken table leg, feels it up and swings it over her shoulder as if it were a bat. “You can play the song now,” Spinel calls out expectantly. A large manic grin stretches across her face, and she winks at no one in particular. “You know the one I like.”

The man starts to play a jazzy tune you’ve never before heard in your life. Spinel runs a hand through one of her messy pigtails--making it ever the more disheveled. Before you think your heart couldn’t possibly be beating any faster, she closes her pretty eyes, purses her lips, and begins to sing.

“Ugh, not again,” you hear officer Amethyst grumble.

“ _That's right I heard the story over and over again_ ,” she bends a knee and snaps her fingers to the beat. “ _Gee, it's swell to finally meet her other friends_.” Her accent brings a rich edge to her husky growl of a singing voice, and your eyes widen as she swings into action. The surrounding onlookers take this as a cue to scream and ditch this dump. The bartender flees into the back room. You stay right where you are.

“ _That's right I heard the story, don't really like how it ends_ ,” she slides toward Steven and looms threateningly over him. “ _Gee, it's swell to finally meet her other friends_!” Just as Pearl comes in to intercept her and protect her kid, Spinel grabs onto a support beam and twirls around on it, flying straight over her head. As Spinel twirls for the second time, she juts out her legs to kick Pearl square in the jaw. The lady officer all but squawks in pain as Spinel glides away, still singing.

“ _What did she say about me? What did she say?_ ” Garnet swings her well-trained, talented fists at Spinel--who simply swats her away as if she were a fly.

_“What did you do without me? What did you do?_ ” You don’t even flinch as glasses shatter left and right across the floor; you’re far too captivated by the way her movements synchronize perfectly with the song. In a flash, she’s somehow got Amethyst's hair wedged under a windowsill.

_“Did you play games without me? What did you play?_ ” She’s kicking drinks off the counter now, twirling her table leg through the air. “ _Did you think all this time that I wouldn't find out about you-uuuuuu?_ ” 

“Spinel, we can’t keep doing this!” Steven pleads in agitation. “Stop--!” and she quickly tosses her table leg into his face.

_“That's right I heard the story over and over again! Gee, it's swell to finally meet her other friends.”_

And it happens far too quickly for you to even breath: she addresses you directly, and you freeze: “Hey! Whaddya lookin' at?”

Your eyes lock, and you swallow hard. How is it that her eyes burn straight through your heart and make it ache? How is it that despite the black mascara running down her face, her eyes are so intense yet so doe-like when she’s looking down at you such with an apparent interest? 

“Ohh…,” you mumble, staring up at her in awe. She grins and sets one hand on her hip, the other flipping her pistol straight out of its holster and into the air. She catches it so smoothly without watching that your heart flutters against your rib cage. You ball your hands up to your chest and stare without shame.

“Like what you see, doll?”

There are many things you could do in this situation. You can be an absolutely normal person and spit at her. You can do what your mother would expect of you and faint like a damsel in distress. You can even do something you shouldn’t do but want to--you want to say something suave back to her. Something that would make her eyes linger just a little while longer.

But your brain feels fuzzy, your stomach is churning and you have no choice but to abandon your self-made spectrum of worthy decisions. Instead, you lamely turn your head away and blush into your hand. 

“She’s dangerous,” you scold yourself. “They say she’s killed people. They say there’s no one out there like her. They say she’s taken out Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl simultaneously with an electrically charged rod in less than two minutes on her first try at crime. What on Earth is wrong with me?”

You can hear the laugh in her voice: “Stick around, sugar. I’m glad a pretty thing like you is enjoying the show.” She shoots a warning shot at each of the newer officers as they draw nearer. The technological green officer is taken out in a millisecond. An officer dressed in blue and another with rainbow hair shortly follow. All the while Spinel is doing tricks, singing up a storm, and having fun without breaking a sweat. As soon as she finishes her song, everyone but Steven is either passed out or writhing in pain on the floor. You don’t even notice the piano man wailing as he races away from the establishment.

Steven blindly rushes over to her, and Spinel turns onto him with her gun held out threateningly. He holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Spinel, stop! Could you help me with something?!”

She looks him over with a fit of bemused anger.“Why the everloving fuck would I evah’ help you?”

Steven continues, “Could you tell the Diamonds to help get rid of the Johnson-Reed Act?! You know how much it interferes with my plans to establish peace across the country, and still you--”

“Like you think we haven’t tried that, asshole?! Now beat it before I shoot a hole through your head. If ya really wanna make a deal with the mafia then I’d better see some cash.” She cocks her gun and presses it to his forehead, grinding her teeth angrily. Steven stiffens and looks up at her with frightened eyes.

Your throat constricts. “No!” you gasp out, stumbling toward them. You note the broken pieces of glass on the floor you could possibly use to protect him. Neither of them are paying any attention to you, but as soon as panic rises from within you, it falls again like a wave in the same amount of time. Something makes you stop as you study Spinel’s annoyed expression.

Nobody moves for a moment. “Fuck off or I’ll shoot,” Spinel spits. “It’s your funeral, Universe!”

Steven glares up at her tiredly and doesn’t move a muscle. “Spinel, please? Tell me you won’t let them give up?”

There is a long daunting silence from both of them, and you can hear your own heart beating. “If Spinel is the monster they all make her out to be…,” you think pensively, “...this will be hopeless…” You pray to God your somewhat idealistic thoughts of Spinel are not delusional.

“Oh, for the love of--!” Spinel finally snaps. She jams her gun back into its holster with barely suppressed anger, and you internally swoon in relief.

The 17-year-old beams triumphantly and places his hands on his hips. “Hah! Ah-hah! I knew you wouldn’t--!” Suddenly Spinel kicks the side of his head and he falls unconscious onto the wooden floor.

“Oh my God!” you exclaim as his body hits the ground. “Steven…” You race forward on shaky legs and fall to your knees to press your hands against his sallow, friend-shaped face. He seemed alright from what you could tell, and as your eyes scan his face you think that he could be sleeping.

“He’ll be fine,” Spinel says quietly. “I didn’t try to hit him too hard.” You look up to see her staring curiously at you. You shoved your strange affection aside to analyze later. You could feel these feelings, but you shouldn’t act on them, you decide. You need to be reasonable. You're reaching for the motivation to give her some negative expression of some sort--like a disgusted glare or a look of abject fear...but you can't seem to control yourself as her gaze softens at you. It's like wincing at the taste of the sweetest candy; how could you ever lie like that?

“Alright...that’s enough!” You turn around to see Garnet, Pearl, and Amethyst struggling to their feet. You back away with a gasp; they’re all reaching for their guns. “Steven didn’t want us to use these, but you leave us no choi--!”

“Oh, hey!” Spinel suddenly grabs you by the waist and tugs you closer to her as the officers aim their weapons accordingly. “Do you value this dame’s life?”

Fury strikes their features just as fear strikes yours. “Don’t you dare--” Pearl begins, though she stops mid-sentence as recognition flashes in her pale blue eyes. She lowers her gun a little. “Oh my,” she whispers. “Isn’t that L/n’s little girl? I thought they…” Garnet and Amethyst peer at you curiously.

“Nah,” Amethyst decides.

“Yes,” Garnet states.

“Yeah,” Amethyst corrects herself.

But Spinel already has you on her back so that they could not shoot her from behind as she speeds out the door. You hear agitated shouts as she escapes out onto the streets. She is holding you piggyback style--and you’re frozen with self-conflict and self-condemnation. 

As she’s running, a business card flutters out of your dress pocket. You gasp and flail for it, but Spinel snatches it effortlessly out of the air between two fingers and hands it back to you. As you take it back from her, she glances at it and stops suddenly. She mutters your last name to herself as she lets you slide off your back.

Of course she would recognize him. You look up at her. “Pardon?”

“Is that your father’s business card? Could I see it?”

What is there to know that the mafia doesn’t know already? You already memorized his work number anyway, so you hand it back to her. Her eyes scan the slip of paper with genuine interest.

“Ah, I know this man,” she chirps. “Used to sell him illegal alcohol and shit like that. Why, he was a swell guy! Whatever happened to him?”

You bit your lip and studied the concrete. “Hm, he quit drinking a while ago.”

Spinel snorted. “Loser.”

You rub your hands together and avert your eyes. “Well, it is bad for your health,” you mutter. “Plus...it gets one in an awful temper. He has a wife and two kids. It was kind of him to stop. Plus, alcohol is illegal. '' You glance up at her again. She’s got her eyes on you, and surprisingly her expression could only be described as thoughtful. You were a little worried that she would take offense at your belief.

“Huh, well,” the girl flips one of her pigtails over her shoulder. “To each their own. Gotta appreciate that mindset--it keeps business running somehow. At least prohibition’s made this hobby of mine kind of a big deal. Means a lot to me. Ever since…” her eyes darkened suddenly, “my asshole mentor died, I’ve been expected to live up to her role. Looks like I’ll never live up to her crimes, though.” She let out a dry laugh. “Had to nab a doll like you ta’ get outta there in one piece.”

“Well,” you begin shyly, “there were seven police officers. Could she have dealt with that?”

Spinel huffs. “Nah, that’s not what I mean. It’s just that...” She lifts her head and stares at the cloudy sky above her. She shakes her head suddenly and turns fully toward you. “Aw, why am I even saying all of this?”

You tilt your head and smile. “Maybe because you just want to?”

She shakes her head and clicks her tongue at herself. You feel her subtle gaze sneaking across your face, and you think you feel a sense of longing in her eyes--but it's gone as soon as you recognize it there. “Anyway, what did you say your name was?”

“I...I never told you it.” Whatever is left of your logic is pleading you to be wary.

She raises an eyebrow expectantly. “Well?”

You look into her eyes, and her magenta gaze draws an answer from your lips without meaning to: “...Y/n.” Your conscience cheers you on wildly as your sense of reason facepalms in defeat. You're unsure how to feel. 

Spinel blinks. “Huh. Suits you.” Her gaze was too intense; your eyes falter, and you drop your head nervously. You can’t stop squirming at the warm feeling her voice gives you. 

“T-thank you.” You run her words through your head several times. “Your mentor…,” you begin carefully, watching her out of the corner of your eye. “...she was Pink Diamond, right?

“Ah, yeah, that’s right,” she says, her voice suddenly rather strained and flat. “That bitch. Thankfully she's dead and can’t hurt nobody anymore.” 

You don’t quite know how to respond to that.

She huffs and waves her hand dismissively as if shooing away some intrusive thought. “Should I take you home then, Y/n?”

You stand there quietly, body tense and eyes wide. Something about her tone is gentle and not at all threatening, but despite your innocence of the outside world you know fully well the stories of this terrifying, so-called psychopath. Still, though, what are you to do? If Spinel really is as cunning as the rumors make her out to be, then there really is no choice but to give in to her. If Spinel truly is evil--which you have come to doubt--then you and your family would be done for regardless. You’re still very much scared. You think of your sickly brother and noted: “He’s in the hospital right now. For the moment, they’re safe if anything goes wrong.”

“Babydoll, I know where your house is. Don’t be scheming against me.” You jolt out of your thoughts and stare at her incredulously. You know from the smirk spreading across her face that you look like a deer in headlights. The fact that calms your nerves just slightly, however, is that her smirk does not in any way seem devious or menacing...Instead, it seems playful and amused-- and at worst possibly condescending. “I approached your dad personally,” she continued. “There wasn’t anything he cared about hiding for.”

You nod your head. How on earth are you supposed to respond to that without outright screeching from overwhelment? “...A-alright.” You tense as she wraps an arm along your shoulders. You’re disconcerted --not because you’re disturbed by her--but because of the strange realization that she smells distinctly of strawberry lollipops --and not something like liquor. Your face must have spoken volume at this, because Spinel suddenly bursts into laughter. You jolt. “Huh, what?”

“Pfffft! Oh my stars, what a weird look!” she clasps a gloved hand to her mouth and chuckles into it. “Your face!” she exclaims. Her words quickly dissolve into wild laughter. Her shoulders shake with mirth.

Your eyes are wide. “What? W-what about it?!”

“Nothing! Nothing at all,” her laughter dies out shortly. She lets out a final snort and wipes away at a lone tear. “Heh.” She smiles down at you. “You’re cute.”

You force down a strangled noise. “N-No? I’m not?! You just smell like a snack my mom used to get me before she cut sugar from my diet!” you blurt out suddenly. 

She grins with a faint surprise. “No sugar for ya, sugar?! You poor thing. Here.” She reaches into her breast pocket and pulls out a small, red lollipop. “Is this what you want?”

You look at your hand as she presses the candy into it. You decide to unwrap it despite your better judgment and study it carefully. “I'm not sure I should be taking this…,” you mumble as you squint at it cautiously. 

“It would be wise not to, sure,” Spinel agrees as you finally place the sweet into your mouth. “It _is_ laced with alcohol, by the way," she adds nonchalantly. You spit it out immediately, and Spinel tries so hard not to burst into hysterics at your expression.

“Pffffft, haha! I was kidding!” she laughs. She tilts her head as you stare incredulously at the abandoned lollipop. “I’ll get you another one another time. Not a fan of booze, I’m guessing?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” you admit. “If it were legal, I would feel much more comfortable about people drinking it.”

“Well, us girls can vote now. Ya wanna make a legal statement? That’s how ya’ do it. Well, Delmarva’s legalized women voting rights a little after it was founded...but the U.S. national election’s definitely a difficult one to rig.” She chuckles a little. “Not impossible, though.”

“I’m still too young to vote.”

She blinks slowly as a strange expression crosses her face. “Aw, alright kiddo. Want me to help you register illegally?”

You shoot her a pained expression. “It's only three more years. I can wait. And please don’t call me a child.” You scrunch your face up at her. “I’m eighteen.”

She smiles in a way you could only translate as relief. “Oh look at you, little-miss-goody-two-shoes. Let me guess: by twenty-one, you’ll already be married off, and then you wouldn’t really ever have any freedom at all!”

You freeze and gasp at her. “Hey!” you cry out indignantly. 

“Hey, yourself!,” Spinel responds. “This is my first year of voting legally and it doesn’t feel at all different from what I had done before then. How are ya’ ever gonna be independent?”

You offer a strained smile, and you glance at the road beside you. “...I’ll manage somehow," you mutter reluctantly. “...My... my mother’s afraid I’m going to end up being an old maid.”

Spinel clicks her tongue and gives a short laugh. “Oh, give me a break. She needs better eyes.”

You glance at her. “Why’s that?” you ask lightly.

She turns to smile at you. “Why, I already told you that you’re cute…” She winks at you, and you stutter and stumble to a stop. She titters at your dazed expression.

“N-no, I…! Well...thank you…” Before resuming your walk you offer her a nervous, wobbly curtsy, and she snorts in reply. “It’s just that...they’ve been working on arranging a marriage for me since I was sixteen... but I’ve never been fond of romance or marriage or anything of the sort.”

Spinel’s eyes suddenly darken. “Oh yeah?” she mutters. You see that she’s got her teeth clenched together. “Who’s the lucky guy? They must have someone in mind by now, huh?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and stare out into the street. “His name... is Tom Ransing,” you say slowly. It's an uncomfortable feeling, talking about marriage. 

She’s quiet for a moment, and you wonder what could be the matter. “What?” she murmurs in disbelief, and it doesn’t sound like a question. Her voice seems so far away, and it strikes you by surprise.

You fidget nervously. “Mr. Ransing?" you lightly repeat. "I’d say he’s pretty well-known. So do you---”

She cuts you off angrily “Yeah, no, I heard you.” You look to her nervously to see that she’s got her fists clenched and her magenta eyes swirling furiously. “What I mean is: what the actual FUCK?!” You’re glad this side of town is mostly empty, as her voice is loud enough to rival the sound of a police siren.

“Huh?!” you ask worriedly, searching her face for answers.

“Mr. Ransing is a fat, rich old cake-eater for them conventional dames,” she spits out. Her accent is tuning her words wild. “Ya’ ain’t evah’ gonna be free in ya’ life ever again if you marry him. Might as well bop him while you’re at it and get in the big house. It would feel just the same!”

You gape at her “What?!” you exclaim, voice high with disbelief, and she sighs and turns her head away. “That’s awful!” you continue. “Besides, he's a good doctor! Why would you think I’d ever want to kill someone like him and end up in jail?”

Spinel narrows her eyes and looks you up and down slyly. You're relieved to see that smile back, though this one is more tart and forced. “Your pretty little flowers and dress can’t hide the bearcat you really are. I’m certain someone’s brainwashed you into being so passive...but they can’t hide you from me.” You purse your lips as she looks away again. “Besides… more importantly...you're eighteen, dollface.”

You know what she’s getting at, but you choose to stare at her blankly. It doesn’t bother you. It doesn’t bother you anymore. “...Yes? I’m aware of that.”

“Well?” she half-snarls. “He’s forty.” Her knuckles are turning white, and your face pales.

You swallow hard. “Yes, so they’ve said.”

“And you’re eighteen…,” she repeats. You close your eyes and wish she’d stop rubbing salt into your--no. It doesn’t bother you. When you open them again, you see Spinel pinching the bridge of her nose. “Do you not see the problem with that?!” 

“No? My parents tell me that it doesn’t really matter.”

Spinel guffawed and stared at you as if you had gone insane. “Oh, no? Then what matters?” She groans in irritation. “That makes me very uncomfortable, Y/n.”

“ _You're_ older than me! You're twenty-two!"

She lets out a high-pitched laugh. "Twenties? Sure! Thirties? Hmmmm...nah. Forties?! You’ve got me fucked, dollface. You and me--compared to that, that’s not even…,” she trails off suddenly as her anger recedes into confusion. “What…?” Her eyes are blank. “Why are we talking about…What does _my_ age have to do with anything?"

You don’t know why you brought it up either: "I don't know, Spinel,” you admit, and you don’t mean to sound so hopeless. I just feel so trapped and I thought marriage would help…” and you sigh, “...maybe...curb these negative feelings."

Spinel shakes her head. "You don't even know this man."

You did, and that was the worst part. "But he...he'll make life easier for everyone…”

“But what about you?” she asks softly, though her tone is insistent.

“What about me?”

“What do you want to do with your life?”

You let out a quick sigh. “I already told you. Marrying him will give my brother enough money to pay for his medication throughout the rest of time. We would be able to--”

“Nah, girl,” she stops you short. “Didn’t ya’ hear me? What do you _want_?”

You feel your breath catch a little at the question, and you can feel the world start to spin a little once again. “...I…what…?” You look down. “I-I don’t really know; I’ve never really considered it for a while.” Spinel’s jaw goes slack, and not wanting to disappoint her, you wrack your mind for lies that you have kept from your parents for so long. “But...but! I’ve had these...dreams before. I’ve always wanted to be close to someone…”

“You’ve...you never…?”

“Oh, no. Some people come over sometimes, but it’s just not the same. I...used to be friends with Steven, but I haven’t talked to him for the longest time. I’ve always wanted a real friend, and…” you give a nervous chuckle. “Oh, this is so silly...”

“No!” she exclaims, almost sounding scared. “No, it’s not!” Her sad eyes dart around as she tries to think of what to say. “Listen, toots...I...I haven’t really had a real friend either, but... I mean,” she huffs, “Heh, I got the Diamonds, but…” There’s a melancholy look in her eye that you just can’t ignore.

“Spinel?”

“...Sometimes I feel like they just want me around because...Well, I said that Pink was my mentor...but they didn’t really trust her with anyone besides me because…ya see, we were close. I’m the only thing left of her that the Diamonds could remember her by.”

You nod slowly. You think you understand. “You were...Pink’s daughter?”

“Well...What?!” She looks at you in surprise. “Did I say that?!

You shake your head. “You both have pink hair and pink eyes," you reason. “Besides, not just anyone could replace Pink Diamond.”

“...I ….yeah,” she mumbles. “She was my mom,” she admits. There’s a long silence between you, and she looks toward the sky. “Huh. You figured that out pretty quickly.” 

“What?” 

She grins at you good-naturedly. “Smart girl.” You blush and press your face into your hand. You don’t know why that complement in particular makes you feel so giddy. You don’t think anyone’s ever said that to you before...did that say anything about you? You’re sure Spinel doesn't seem to think so.

You suppress a smile. “I’m...I’m not…” you stutter.

A wide grin spreads out across her face. “Oh, that’s gotta be the prettiest shade of pink I've seen you wear all day,” she giggles. “Yunno what I’m thinking, ya clever fox?"

You groan. “Do I want to know?” you tease.

Spinel beams and laughs cheerfully. Her voice sends warm shivers up your spine. “Instead of marrying a doctor, you should become one!” she declares confidently, and you freeze.

Your mind goes entirely blank. “I couldn’t,” you state simply. “That’s impossible.”

Her smile fades and she looks carefully into your eyes. “Hey, dolly? Don’t...don’t hold out me.” You sigh as she steps closer towards you. “Ya’ seem to be doin’ it to yourself too… Tell me, Y/n. Is there anything ya wanna get?” Your eyes jump to hers. She’s smiling sweetly. “Anything ya’ wanna see? I’m above the law.” She whistles cheekily. “I can give it to you.”

You smile and turn away. You smooth out your dress shyly. “I don’t need anything...but that kind of reminds me of something I see outside my window…” You look at her. “Could we head home now? I’d like to show you something.”

She brightens excitedly. “Of course!” She moves in closer and holds an arm out for you to take. You do, of course, but not without a clumsy stumble, and you both head back to your home in a pleasant silence.

The city square is not far from the house. As you’re walking up the final hill with her, you gaze around at the familiarity that is your neighborhood. You turn excitedly and gesture towards the view beside you as the wind brushes its hand through your hair. The violet mounds in the distance are forever unchanged, forever mysterious. It gives you so much hope just to be several feet closer to them. “You see the mountains over there?”

She looks up into the horizon and raises her brows in admiration. “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to go up there!”

“Me too…,” you smile to yourself. “That’s all I’ve wanted to do since I was a child. Go up there alone, or with a close friend or two...and just explore the unknown!” you end with a laugh. Spinel is still looking at the mountains. Suddenly she turns toward you and grabs you by the shoulders. Her bright smile is all you can feel and see.

“Tell you what, dollface," she begins, and the bright and engaging look on her face has you hooked to her by your heartstrings. “What if we could do just that?!”

You look at her as if she had just fallen from the sky. “Huh?!” you gasp, and what she says next makes you fall head over heels for her, for once and for all:

“Aren’t you a little tired of all this?” she asks. “Imagine it, Y/n! What if we could escape all of the sorrows we have to deal with? There’s always something wrong." THat--you couldn't disagree. "Suppose we leave! Suppose we leave everyone who has ever hurt us for good. Pack our desirables and go past those hills into the mountains--it’s just over the lane! You can forget about marriage! You can forget about money!” You don’t even realize you’re crying until you notice the blurred edges of your vision. “And I...why, I could break free from this diabolical institution. I won’t have to ever worry about not being enough--or being too much! Right here, right now--I could forget that Pink gave up her life for Steven while I was only an accident. We wouldn’t have to worry about making people happy!” She’s almost gasping for breath at this point. Enthusiastic tears are gathering up in her eyes. “We’ll never have to worry about making people hate us!” She pauses, a dreamy film passing through her eyes as she whispers, “Isn’t that… just swell?!"

You sob and throw yourself into her chest, taking her by surprise. She squeezes you tight and grins down at you at first, but then...She feels the sadness imbuing from your trembling form, and her face falls. Realization settles upon her like the gift she’s never wanted.

“Spinel…” It’s so hard to speak.

She bites her lip and looks away. 

“I just...I just can't.” You can’t even see her in front of you; you just feel so miserable, so trapped. “I can't just abandon my family! My brother needs me...and my parents need me! They're getting to be so old...and they expect me to get married to Mr. Ransing soon and they've been planning for years...I can't just...ruin their lives!” You’re overcome with another wave of tears, and she holds you closer to her. She’s staring at you with such a doleful expression that doesn’t help stop you from pitying yourself. You wish you could stop. You wish for the pain to leave so that your purpose wouldn’t sting so much.

“ I guess I... won’t be seeing you?” Spinel murmurs.

You press the side of your face into her neck. “I...I don’t want to leave you.”

She looks at you sadly and you can tell she’s trying hard not to cry. "Oh, doll, I don’t wanna leave you either...”

“About what you’ve said about running away with you...I...and I really like you too…”

“It’s okay…” she murmurs shakily, but is it really? She just poured out her heart to you and you have no choice but to decline any chance at freedom. Does your mindset really leave you with no room for free will?

You pull away slightly, and she resists a little. She doesn’t want to let go. You wipe your eyes with one hand and stare up at her. Your mind is reeling with only one thought in mind, repeating incessantly as if it were a chant of a wicked, restricting spell: “Y/n, you quiff, don’t do it.” But you keep staring at her, asking a silent question she soon seems to understand.

Spinel watches you carefully and leans down closer to you. Her expression emulates such a vivid concern for you, and your heart melts. Your rational thought--apparently-- vanishes as you lean in even closer.

“No one’s ever made me so happy before,” you murmur. Spinel freezes in place as you wrap your arms around her shoulders. “It means a lot to me. The very thought of what you said makes me feel as if...I could make the choice to be with you.” You quickly press your lips her mascara-stained cheek and pull away in half the time. As soon as you do, you want to do it again, but you’re nervous. You don’t know what she’s thinking; you can’t really read her expression at the moment.

“O-oh...uh…” Spinel looks a little dazed. She blinks several times, and after several unsteady heartbeats, her eyes are focused on you again. Her gaze surrounds your senses and makes your knees weak, and you want nothing more but to have her kiss you back. You are both shocked and attracted to this closeness you desire out of her. You had only known her for less than a day, after all. It all seemed like a fairytale, really. 

Spinel gives you a shy look and presses a finger just under your chin. You feel her strawberry breath flutter against your cheeks and eyes. Her gaze drops slightly toward your lips, and your heart leaps into your throat.

“Oh...um…” You turn and glance fearfully at the window of your parents’ house. You wonder if you were far away enough. They shouldn’t be home until tomorrow, yet you’re still hesitant. You’re still too close to your fears to feel content. You feel like you’re being watched.

“Oh! Right!” Spinel drops her hand sheepishly, and you take it in yours, pulling her gently towards the side of the house. You both hurry, and as soon as you’re both out of the line of sight, Spinel takes no time in pressing you up against the wall. You reach up to stroke the mascara lines running down her face, and Spinel closes her eyes. Her brows furrow with a sudden, profound sadness.

“Six lines,” she whispers. “For those six years. They won’t come off.”

You stare at her solemnly. “Six years of what?” But you can already guess.

“Pink Diamond...I had waited for her six years to come back...to think that I was never good enough for her...I had just decided that I would be better off not being good at all. But I don’t wanna play this game anymore.” She sighs heavily and lowers her head. You comfortingly encircle your arms around her neck. “I just want to forget it. I want to kiss you until I can’t remember anything anymore.”

The sincerity of her words certainly takes you by surprise. “Well…” you flush deeply and try to hold her glimmering stare. “I’m right here…”

Even the vibrant excitement you felt while kissing her cheek was nothing compared to the lovestruck way she looks at you before leaning in to press her lips to yours. You moan softly as she moves into you; she’s taking so much care into driving you mad. Her kisses simply defied description: all you can feel and touch is her.

“Dolly?” she mumbles against your mouth. You hum gently and tilt your head back against the wall. She pulls away a little, and she suddenly looks rather uncertain.

“Y...you’re…,” she mumbles. “I just wanna say...You’re so kind to me…”

“Oh…” You run your thumb along one of her many tear marks. “I could say the same to you.” When her eyes widen, you add with a giggle: “Yeah, I was surprised too.”

She smirks lightly and quickly captures your lips ever the more passionately. Her fingers start to dig into your shoulders, and you feel so close to her. Under the heat and fierceness, she was really so soft and so much in pain. You can feel her desire from her clenched hands--the spirit as her magenta eyes lead to yours. She’s so powerful and gentle simultaneously--and nothing’s ever made you feel this content before. “She’s just like the type of person…,” you think as your shared kisses became more desperate and vocal, “...the type of person I’d like to spend the rest of my life with.”

But then these words tear up the reminder of your burdens that you and Spinel had tried to bury under a tirade of comfort. The notion of marriage shatters upon you and cuts deep welts into your heart despite your connection to her.

You simply want to have her be yours so badly it scares you.

It _scares_ you.

The rational part of your brain comes crashing back with a barrage of intrusive questions: “Why did you leave the house? Why did you look for a job? You’re not supposed to be out here. You’re not supposed to be with her! You’re so disappointing--so disgusting! Your mother and father will tear you to bits. Why are you kissing the likes of her? You’ve only known her for less than a day! She shot at the cops! She knocked out your childhood friend! Why do you care about her? Why do you care about anything other than your family? She hasn’t done anything for you but make you think of this useless romantic shit and cry! Don’t you want to be useful? Don’t you want your parents to love you?! If you want to be free so badly, then why don't you finish what you started?! Why don’t you take that kitchen knife, you coward, you bitch-whore, and--!”

“You okay, love?”

You scramble out of her arms frantically, body going stiff. “What have I...what am I doing…?”

“What you wanted, puddin’. You did what you want...at least,” and all of sudden she looks so vulnerable. She’s so cute--the way her round magenta eyes are pacing back and forth makes your chest hurt; she looks so shy. “I-I mean...uh...I hope you wanted to...to kiss me… I mean, I...”

“Yes!” you interject. You can’t deny it. “Yes, I really wanted to do that.” You’re looking at the ground, your vision blurry. Your heart feels like it’s shattering into millions of pieces. She laughs happily at your answer, but you don’t even have the energy to smile back.

“Spinel,” you say. Your lips are trembling. “Forgive me.”

“What?” She stares at you, smile frozen. You can see the light in her eyes go out as she scans your face.

“I want to love you,” you say, and you force your voice to remain steady. “But I won’t.” Without another word, you turn and flee for your front door.

Your heart is rattling as you jam the house key into the lock and swing your door open. You fling it shut, lock it quickly, and fall to the ground with a thump. Your dress becomes crumbled from the abuse. You can’t catch your breath. You can barely think. You can’t even--

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!”

Time stops. You look up slowly. 

No way. Your throat ties itself into a knot, and pressure in your chest grows almost unbearable. You feel as if you've left the Earth. Why is your mother here? There’s no way. "Please, please," you mutter to yourself quietly, but in your heart, you scream the words loudly. There's absolutely no way! But here she is, standing in front of you with her hands on her hips and an aura of disappointment surrounding her. You swallow hard and scramble to your feet. First thing’s first, though, you need to ask about your brother: in a shaky voice, you begin, “Mama--”

“Have you any idea how worried we were?! There was absolutely no way we could have contacted you!” She slaps her hands against the wall with an angry shriek. “We called up the neighbors--nothing! Dad went out looking for you for hours! _Hours,_ Y/n, and _nothing_! The Crystal police called us up and told us that you got kidnapped by a member of the Diamond family! We came back here right away! We were hysterical! What have you been doing?!”

You take a deep breath as she studies you angrily. “I was just out looking for a job!”

“What?! Don’t raise your voice at me! You SNUCK out! You’re so sneaky!”

“I am not! You wouldn’t have let me out either!”

Your mother looks so enraged that you had actually spoken back to her. “For good reason! You’re a small little girl--so defenseless! If you went out alone, of course I wasn’t surprised when I heard you got kidnapped by that Spinel! That’s why we need to get you a nice, wealthy husband--”

“For the last time, mother! I! Don’t! Want! A! Husband!”

“What’s going on here?!” Your dad enters the room and his eyes widen as he sees you. He looks as if he will rush toward you for a hug, but your mother holds a hand up to him, and he stops short. “Y/n! Where were you?!”

Your mom slams her hand against her apron. “Out looking for a job, she says!” Your father looks shocked, barks a laugh and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, come on. I told you, honey: we need you here. What if something happens to you? What’s going to happen to your brother?”

“How is he?” you gasp.

“Oh, who knows?” your mother whines. “He’ll be in the hospital for a couple of days, but maybe we wouldn’t have to worry so much if you stayed at home like we told you to!”

“I need money to support him!” You stress, gesticulating furiously. 

“What you need is a husband to get you money for him, and you need to be at home taking care of both of them,” your mother corrects you. She’s wearing an expression that holds no doubt--no mercy. Clearly she believes that she’s absolutely correct.

You grit your teeth. “I’m so fucking sick of this--!”

“Y/n!” your mother cries indignantly. “So disrespectful! Do you think this is easy for us too?! We sacrifice so much for you and your brother, and this is just how you repay us! You are so willful! So selfish!”

Oh my god, they don’t even get a crumb of your point. You take a deep breath and try to calm your beating heart. Levelly, you say, “I just don’t know why it’s a husband you want me to have so much. Besides, I wouldn’t mind getting married, if I actually could make the choice.” Ears ringing, you dare to add, “Besides, I’d rather marry a girl instead.” You had to say it; magenta is your favorite color, and there’s no going back.

Your mother recoils, looking sick. “I am going to throw up!” she hisses, bringing a hand to her mouth. “I know why this is! It’s because of those retired officers who used to come to our house, I’ll bet! Ruby and Sapphire...those horrible Crystal police officers! Which is why you should never go out! You can’t trust anyone out there!

Your father casts a worried expression at his wife. “Y/n, don’t you think that--”

“I don’t care what you think. _I_ think I’d like to take off and bring my brother with me. Once I find myself a home and actually make friends who _do_ care about my well-being, I’m leaving.” You don’t really know if you mean it or not; you love your parents, but their controlling nature is suffocating. You need to escape--at least for a moment. You wish with all your heart to be independent and free, and most importantly make your own choices--

“Hey.” Your father’s expression is dark. “Hey, young lady. Watch your mouth.” His fist is trembling.

Your mother’s voice is shrill: “You were never like this! What has gotten into you!? You take one step outside and you’ve completely lost it! You apologize right now!”

“Apologize to your mother, Y/n.”

Your heart is rattling in against your chest, but you swallow your fear down and look at each of your parents in the eye. Simply, you find the courage to mutter just loud enough for them to hear: “No. I won’t.”

Your father shuffles forward in a blind rage and brings his hand down across your cheek as hard as he can muster. His clenched hand on your dress collar keeps you from flying from the force of the slap, but he quickly drops you so that you stumble backwards into the door.

“You hit me.” Tears are pooling in your eyes. Your father’s fury melts into a look of grief as he stares at your agonized expression. “You hit me!”

“Honey,” he reaches out to you. “I-I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry...”

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” you belt out through your crying. You can feel your cheek swelling up into a red mound. He hasn’t hit you since your suicide attempt years ago. You thought everything had changed, and you were wrong, wrong, wrong. “I HATE YOU!” You have never said it before, but it bursts out of you before you can stop it. It was as if your overwhelming anger and your long-lasting suppression of it has cursed you to deem it true.

“Y/n...” He recoils as if you had struck him back. “Please, I didn't mean to--”

“No, you did the right thing,” your mother snaps, stepping forward with anger etched upon every feature of her face. “Why don’t you just go off and leave! Go!” she marches up to you and slaps you across the forehead, and it doesn’t hurt even a fraction of your father’s impact, but somehow it’s worse as she gets into your personal space with once-so-caring eyes glazed with disgust and hate. “Leave this family since it’s just you you ever care about!” She grabs you by the shoulders and shoves you towards the door…

… And somehow it’s already been opened, because you fall directly into Spinel’s outstretched arms.

“Hey,” she says with false sweetness. You obviously can’t see her from behind you, but your parents’ terrified stare spells it all out for you. A wicked laugh escapes her, and you tense.

“No, wait! Spinel, don’t hurt them!” You struggle feebly, but she only squeezes you closer to her. “They’re just--”

“Who the hell are you again? Hittin’ your own child?!” she leers. She’s shaking with anger, and you just know that if you wished it they would be dead within seconds. “I’ve seen and heard enough. I’m taking her with me.”

“No!” your mother gasps, taking a step closer. “Please, don’t--!”

Your father turns and makes a wild dash for the phone. But with a smooth flick and turn of Spinel’s hand, she has a pistol aimed straight for his head. You screech at him to stop. Thankfully he listens to you, immediately freezes and holds his hands up in the air.

You and Spinel jerk back slightly as she fires at the telephone. Its rotary dial is impaled with a sharp bang from her pistol. “Hmmm...hmhmhmheeheehee~! Don’t even think about calling Steven and his silly little cop friends. You ain’t safe with me around.” She lifts you up effortlessly with one arm, and your toes are just barely touching the ground as she rests her chin on top of your head. Her tone is laced with unadulterated, sultry excitement as she says, “Besides, she’s mine now.”

As she turns for the exit, you feel as if maybe--just maybe--you should have never exposed yourself to the world outside your home. You’re so scared. You wish someone were there to tell you what to do. You can hear your parents sobbing as she slams the door behind her, and your heart plummets. “Wait!” You clench your teeth as miserable tears pour down your face “S-Spinel, I--!”

“Don’t you worry, Y/n,” Spinel all but giggles. You can still feel her shaking, and you don’t know what that means for you. “We’re gonna have a ‘lotta fun together--you and I. Nobody’s gonna hurt you anymore.”


End file.
